Ultra-Kinky or Just Plain Normal?

EllaRegina said: "Ultra-kinky?? I just thought it was normal! ;-)"
In case you missed her delicious spanking scenario, I've snagged the story from the comments. Now, you decide. (Oh, I hope my poll works!)

NORMAL
by EllaRegina

"I want to see if you're normal first," he says.

"Of course I am."

"No, that's not what I meant. Come here."

He is sitting in a wooden chair with very good posture, both he and the piece of furniture: matching uprights.

I approach him.

"Over my knees, please."

I have no choice, it seems, when it comes to establishing my normality.

I am wearing my "Snow White" underpants. Her disembodied face hovers over my pubic mound. Seven dwarves, in various stages of Dwarfdom, surround her smiling profile like a protective frame.

I place myself over his muscular legs. My skin begins to itch immediately from the wool of his trousers.

His hand pulls Snow White off my behind and lets her slide down my legs until she lies like a pair of loose cuffs at my ankles.

I am totally exposed.

A small jar of Vaseline sits on his desk, near the chair upon which I am most precariously balanced. He pops the lid, thumbs out a glob and then moves his hands to where I cannot see them.

A Vaselined finger enters the bullseye between my buttocks. I quiver. It stirs around for a moment and is then replaced, slowly, by something hard and narrow and slightly cold: a rectal thermometer. My interior greets it like an old friend.

"We need to see if you're normal," he repeats, "and we shall have our answer in a few minutes."

His hands rub my ass while we wait for the mercury to rise. I feel some residue from the ointment as he kneads and strokes my pale smooth curves. He wiggles the glass object piercing me vertically like a flag planted on a mountaintop and I squirm.

"Just making sure it's inserted properly."

"Oh, it feels right in place," I say. I hover in a cloud of heat, emanating from my body like an aura. I also feel warmth and a hardness to my left, his stiff cock straining against his fly buttons.

He follows the tick and the tock and finally I feel the thermometer withdraw in a Vaseline slide.

"Just what I thought," he says in an angry tone.

"What is it??"

"You're sub-normal!"

"Oh, yes, I should have told you. I have a low body temperature. But really, it is still considered normal. I'm OK."

"I don't think so," he says, each word spoken distinctly as if arriving on four separate platters, "but I know how to fix you."

"Oh?" I ask innocently, curious about his antidote to my permanent biological state.

His hand, again, but now hard, fingers together, gliding down in a swoop on my just-massaged rear. My body lurches with the physical contact but his left arm is binding me into place.

He puts a finger back inside me and slides it to and fro, in a kind of tease. He removes it and the hand becomes a soaring bird, landing once more on my flesh. And again, and again and again.

"This will raise you a few degrees. Then you'll be normal."

"I'm glad," I manage between swats. "All I've ever wanted was to be normal."

"I'll get you there," he says, an Indian burn growing with every strike of his palm. "Do not worry." I imagine the form of his hand as a red silhouette across my buttocks, like a bruising shadow play.

The spanking continues. He is controlled in his rhythm and then, every so often, launches into a free-fall. My pussy is wet and I'm afraid its appreciation will drip onto his expensive pinstripes. But, I think to myself, this would likely encourage some form of punishment that would bring me even closer to being "normal."

If he senses my dampness on his trousers he does not let on. I feel the glass object inside me in a repeat performance. He resumes the temperature-wait fondle. His fingertips touch me lightly, almost tickling, his left hand the whole time tethering my warming body.

The device is taken out for the second time and he holds it up for a reading. "Good!" he says. "You're normal. Now you are ready."

"For what?"

"To be fucked."

"Where?"

"I shall determine which part of you needs my medicine. It will be administered in the correct dosage. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And he is.

I kick Snow White across the room and crawl onto the bed.



XXX,
Alison

P.S. This story reminds me a little of my After Hours one.